


Ace Frehley's Day Off

by Gh0stFl0ra



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Peter is Jeanie, ferris bueller parody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gh0stFl0ra/pseuds/Gh0stFl0ra
Summary: Paul 'Ace' Frehley is a clever fast talker, legendary in his own time. He calls out sick, to embark on an adventure with his boyfriend, Paul, his best friend, Gene, and a Mustang. From Yankee Stadium to the MOMA, to a Saint Patrick's Festival, Ace and his friends plan on making the most of the day. Not if his brother, Peter, and school principal Tipper Gore have anything to say about that.
Relationships: Ace Frehley/Paul Stanley
Kudos: 11





	1. Ninth time's the charm

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this is ripped right from the original movie's script, with a few tweaks. The guys are teenagers, but look like how they did in their mid twenties AKA long hair. I also changed the names of Ace's parents, I think.

It's a beautiful day in New York, temperatures in the upper 70's. Right now, 75 in Brooklyn, 74 in Queens, 73 in the Bronx. 

"Tom!", a woman shouts, alerting her husband. 

"What's the matter?", he asks, entering his son's bedroom. 

"It's Paul, look at him", his wife gestures to Ace, who looks absolutely miserable in bed. 

"Paul?", he questions, pressing his hand to the teen's forehead. Joan explained their son's ailment, slightly worried. 

"He doesn't have a fever, but his stomach hurts, and he's seein' spots", she began to pace, pressing her knuckles to lower lip. 

"What's the matter, Paul?", Tom asks, eyebrow cocked. Ace coughs, before blearily looking at his father. 

"P-Papa?", he coughs again, seemingly wretched. Joan pushed Tom to check his hands, claiming they were cold. Ace groans, before attempting to sit up. 

"I'm fine, I'll get up", 

"No!", his parents shout, pushing him down. He attempts again, with the excuse of having a test. But, the two urge him to lie down again. 

"I-I gotta take it, I wanna go to a good college, so, I can have a good life", he stammers, pleading with puppy eyes. 

"Honey, you're not goin' to school like this", Joan asserts, brushing strands away from his forehead. Just as she does so, Peter stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame. 

"What's his problem?", the other boy snaps, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

"He doesn't feel well," Tom explains, much to his other son's disgust. 

"Dry that one out, you can water the window boxes". 

Ace coughs again, weakly looking over to his brother. 

"P-Peter, is that you? I can't see that far Peter, P-Peter, I-", 

"Bite the big one, junior", Peter hisses, earning a tongue lashing. 

"Peter, you get to school!", Tom shouts. The other boy protests, crossing his arms.

"If I was bleedin' out my eyes, you'd make me go to school. It's so unfair!"

"P-Peter, don't be upset with me, you have your health, be grateful", Ace rolls over, away from his parents, and gives him a wink. 

"That's it! I want out of this family!", Peter stomps off, leaving his brother and parents. 

"I'm okay, I'll just sleep, I'll have an aspirin around noon", he assures. 

"I'm showin' some houses to that family from Vermont today", Joan announces, continuing to brush her son's hair. He nods weakly, as Tom rubs Ace's shoulder. 

"The guys will know where I am, if you need me", Ace nods weakly. "I'll check on you too, pal", 

"I have such lovin', carin' parents", After the rest of the family left the apartment, Ace smiles to himself. 

"They bought it. Incredible, a terrible performance, and they never doubted it for a second", he kicks off his covers, and opens the blinds, to reveal a clear blue sky, "How could I be expected to go to school on a day like this?", 

After turning around, he switches on the radio. "This is my ninth sick day this semester. If I go for ten, I'm probably gonna have to barf up a lung. So, I absolutely have to make this one count". He exits the bedroom, planning on taking a shower, "Don't care if you're fifty five or seven, everybody needs a day off now and then", 

He paused after undressing, "I do actually have a test, that wasn't bullshit", 


	2. You're Not Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to vikk0ut on tumblr for the fanart. Go give them some attention.  
> I've only ever watched Star Wars once, so I may get the scene with it wrong.

Ace shapes his long hair into a mowhawk, washing most of the soap off his body, before speaking to himself again, this time, about the test. 

"It's on European socialism. I mean, c'mon. I'm not European, I don't plan on it, either. So who gives a shit if they're socialists. They could be fascist anarchists. Still wouldn't change the fact that I have to use a taxi", he turns the shower head, and begins to use it as a microphone. 

After exiting the bathroom, two towels on, he remarks, 

"Not that I condone fascism, or 'isms'. In my opinion, someone shouldn't go off an ism, he should be himself. Lennon said it himself 'I don't believe in The Beatles, I just believe in me', good point there. He was the walrus, after all". Ace scoffed, "I could still be the walrus, and have to bum rides". 

He changes into some slightly tacky outfit, before going to the fridge, "A serious danger is that you can believe your own act", he pulls out a can of orange juice, "That and boredom. People ditch, feel great for a few hours- then realize there's nothin' to do. I've ditched and gotten so bored I did homework. Yeah, figure that shit out", he takes a sip. 

The phone rang in another apartment's bedroom. Dark, desolate, the floor strewn with old tissues, and a nightstand scattered with pills. 

"Food...shelter...no...yes...", Gene grumbles, hearing the phone. He sets it to speaker, "Hello?", 

"Gene, what's happenin' ?", Ace chirps.

"Very little", the other boy whispers hoarsely. 

"How do you feel?", 

"Shredded", a cough. 

"Is your ma in there?", Ace chuckles to himself. 

"She-she's not home, where are you?", 

"Home", he sprawls out in an armchair, "I'm takin' the day off, get dressed and come over". 

Gene groans, " I can't. I'm sick". 

"All in your head. C'mon over". 

"I feel like complete shit, Ace. I can't go anywhere", 

Ace pouts, "Aww, sorry to hear that. Now c'mon over and pick me up". He hangs up with flourish, Gene slowly placing it back down again. 

"I'm dying", the other boy brushes a lock of hair out of his face. The phone rings again. 

"You're not dyin'. You just can't think of anythin' good to do", Ace adds, hanging up again, "If anybody needs a day off, it's Gene. He has a lot of things to sort out before he graduates. The guy can't be wound this tight and go to college. His roommate'll kill him". 

At school, first period has just begun. A semi-exhausted teacher is calling names, and regretting his missed coffee. 

"Chase",

"Here",

"Desaint",

"Here",

"Ford",

"Here",

"Frehley". No answer. "Frehley?"

"He's sick", a blonde girl attempts, "My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going out with a girl who saw Ace pass out at Milky Way last night", she pops her gum, "I guess it's pretty serious". The teacher sighs, before replying, 

"Thank you, Kim", 

"No problem," she smiles. 

"Hudson", he continues. 

"What?", 

Back at Ace's apartment, Star Wars is playing on VHS, the final battle against the Death Star. He's sitting in his armchair, pretending it's the Millennium Falcon, wearing a football helmet. He's steering, reaching down, as if grabbing a lever. Ace throws himself back, the force of the ship throwing Skywalker back. He bounces in the chair, to simulate throttle. 

It's about to fire- 

Ace rears back in anticipation. 

It fires, his arms outstretched, as the Death Star explodes. 

"Impact!", he shouts. 

In Peter's room, a black and green mess, Ace sits on the bed, going through a wallet. 

"This is really degrading", he sighs, coming up with a wrinkled dollar bill, "Payin' for it, very damaging to the self image. But, hey, I'm broke. In times of crisis, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. I'll ay it back", he pauses, "With interest", he yanked out a five. He returns to his room, playing a few riffs on his guitar, Pink Floyd's 'Money'. 

At Joan's office, she's annoyed, talking to one of her coworkers. 

"No one's goin' to consider an orange living room, not even those screwballs in Vermont", her coworker sighed in frustration, "Mrs. Volbeck's dead set against puttin' money into the house", Joan's buzzer goes off, as she picks up the phone. 

"Joan Frehley?", her eyes widen at who speaks. 

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I forgot to call", 

"Are you aware that your son is not in school today?", 


	3. Line Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added in a bunch of musicians/singers as students and staff, for gits and shiggles.

"Yes, yes I am. Paul is home sick. I had a meeting this morning. I should've called. It completely slipped my mind," Joan apologizes, as the person on the other line taps her shoe on her desk. In the principal's office, a secretary is peering over to her boss. 

"Are you aware that Paul doesn't have what we consider an exemplary attendance record?", the plate on her desk reads 'Tipper Gore', slightly obscured by her navy blue pumps. 

"I don't understand", Joan continued. 

Gore curls the cord, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair obscuring the phone, a fake smile on her lips. 

"I just had his file up, Mrs. Frehley", behind her is a computer terminal. She removes her feet from the desk, turning in her seat, "If Paul thinks he can coast these last two months, and still graduate, he's sorely mistaken", 

"This is all news to me", Joan sighs. The monitor displaying his records is pulled up. 

"So far this semester alone he's been absent nine times. Including today", 

"N-nine times?", Joan seems shocked. But just as she was trying to process it, the number switches from nine to two. 

"I have it right here, he's missed-", she squints at the screen. 

Ace turns from his computer, before talking to himself. 

"I wanted money for a car, I got money for a computer, how's that for bein' born under a bad sign?", 

Joan's still on the phone with Gore, " I can give ya every assurance that Paul is home and that he is, in fact, very ill. I debated whether or not I should even leave him. I appreciate that at this time of year kids are takin' the day off, but in Paul's case, he's truly a very sick boy", 

Back at the apartment, the radio is throbbing, as Ace plays guitar, a cheap camera recording him. 

'Wonder when Gene's coming?', 

Gene buttons up a black shirt, before sighing deeply, and falling back onto his bed. 

Peter's opening his locker when a fluffy haired boy named Eric runs up to him, apologizing for Ace. Peter scoffs. 

"What're you sorry for?, I have to live with the the trouser snake", Eric shakes his head. 

"No, I mean I heard he's really sick", Peter raises an eyebrow. 

"Who said he's sick?", he slams his locker shut after getting a book out. 

"A whole bunch of people. They said he's- like on the verge of death", Peter stares incredulously at him. 

"What?", 

"This guy in my biology class said that if Ace dies, he's giving his vocal cords to Tom Waits. He's so sweet", Eric smiles, blushing slightly. Peter cocks his head, punching his locker. 

"Fruitcake", 

Ace is lying on his bed, phone cord wrapped around his hand. 

"They sent some of my blood to the CDC in Atlanta. I dunno, man, I'm brickin' heavily", 

He covers the receiver, "Freshman", the conversation continues, "Did ya see Alien? When the guy had the creature in his stomach? It feels like that". The freshman and his buddies were desperate for news. 

"Goddamn! Are you kidding?", the freshman gasps in shock. 

"What?", one of the boys asks, eyebrows furrowed 

"Did you see Alien?", the freshman covers the phone, as the other shakes his head no. 

"You never rented the VHS?", again, the boy shakes his head. 

A third boy taps the second on the shoulder, asking who the freshman was talking to. 

"Ace Frehley, you know him?", the third beams at the second. 

"Yeah, he's getting me out of summer school, and a guy for guitar lessons," 

"Anyways, I appreciate you telling us how you're doing, we gotta split", the freshman pauses, "Huh? Yeah, yeah, hold on", 

The second whispers to the third, "Shit, I hope he doesn't die, I can't go to summer school".

The freshman flags down a passing girl, Debbie Harry, asking if she's seen Alien. 

"Yeah, why?", the freshman hands her the phone. 

"Hello?", she asks. A pause, "Who?", another, "Hi, Ace. How's your bod?", her jaw drops, "Oh my God, you're dying? I-Is it serious?", a third pause, "Shit! Are you upset?", 

In the principal's office, Gore's comparing her computer monitor to the file. Ella Fitzgerald, the secretary, is looking over her shoulder. 

'I don't trust this kid any further than I can smack him", Gore snaps. Fitzgerald chuckles,

"With your bad hand, you better not smack anyone, Tipper", the blonde stares at her, before resuming her speech. 

"What's so toxic about a character like Paul Frehley is that he gives good kids a bad path. I don't need fifteen hundred Frehley disciples at this point in my career", Ella shrugs.

"He's popular, Tipper. Sportos, rockers, sluts, richies, gays, they all adore him", 

"Precisely why I have to catch him. To show these children that his example is a first class ticket to failure," Fitzgerald oohs, claiming her boss sounds just like Foxy Brown. 

"Really?", 

"Gene, if you're not over here in 20 minutes, you can find a new best friend. Seriously, man", Ace leans over the phone , drawing a picture of his boyfriend, Paul on the computer, "This is bullshit. Makin' me wait 'round the house for ya", 

"I'm sick, I feel like shit. Why can't you leave me alone?", Gene growls, back in bed. 

"You're not up for some good times? It's a gorgeous day. Almost summer. If this was Hawaii, we'd be surfing", Gene doesn't answer, "You wanna stay home and try to barf? Try to feel worse?", 

"I don't have to try", Gene protests. 

"Be a man, take some Pepto-Bismol and get dressed. You're borin' me with this stuff". The other line starts ringing, "Squeeze your buns for a sec. I've got another call", putting Gene on hold, he clears his throat, "H-hello?", 

Tom's on the phone behind the counter. The bar is staffed by two other people, another middle aged man and a possibly teenaged girl. 

"You sound miserable", 

"R-really? Darn! I thought I was improvin' ", 

"Were you sleeping?", Tom questions. 

"I was tryin' to do some homework", he turns back to the computer, "I'm so worried about fallin' behind", he leans back in his chair, sipping a coke. 

"D-Dad, can you hold on a second?", 

"Sure, Paul. Are you alright?", Tom asks. 

"Just a little phlegm, h-hold on", he clicks hold, before returning to Gene's line. 

"Gene, it's my dad", 

"Oh, that's just great. Are you busted?", the other chirps in a fake saccharine tone. 

"It's cool, He's checkin' up on me. Now, listen to me. I've got a bunch of bonds somewhere in the apartment. I need to figure out where they are. So, the least ya can do is hurry and get over here. Bye", Ace disconnects, getting back on the line with Tom. 

"S-sorry, Dad. I had a chest spasm before you called. B-Blew lung fluid all over the place. It's great of you to call. I'm sure there's a lot of dads who wouldn't call their sick teenagers", 

"Hey, what else was I supposed to do?", Ace stares at the the picture and dumps it. As the conversation continues, the picture ends up on a billboard, confusing passerby. When the call ends, Ace goes to his parent's closet, and takes out the shoebox full of government bonds. 

"I'm so disappointed in Gene, Twenty bucks says he's sitting in his car, debating whether or not he should go out", 

Gene's sitting behind the wheel. 

"We're gonna get caught, no doubt about it," he cuts the engine. Another pause, "I'm not doing it", he pauses, "He'll keep calling over and over until I come over", he restarts the engine. Another pause, "Actually what'll happen is I'll get caught. Ace will escape", a third pause. He stops the engine. 

A drawer is opened, and a sweater tossed aside. The brunet takes out a men's magazine. 

"Gene'll go on like that for thirty minutes. He's a shellfish at makin' decisions", he walks down the hall, "He's also one of the only guys I know that can't eat shellfish", 

"Pardon Moi", he enters the bathroom, "Maybe I'm just like my mother, she's never satisfied...", he sings. 

Paul's sitting at his desk in history class, staring out the window. The teacher, pompadour wearing, and with southern accent laced speech delivers a lecture. 

"Roosevelt's health had seriously deteriorated by the time he met with Churchill and Stalin at Yalta", he coughs, "Pardon me", the door opens, revealing Nurse Rosetta. She whispers to him, as he nods. Paul watches, as his teacher's face drops. Mr. Presley nods to the nurse. She looks to the teenager. 

"Paul Stanley?", he sits up, as Rosetta gestures him outside. 

He gives a smile when neither are looking.

A girl looks at him, confused. 

"Dead grandmother", Paul whispers. Rosetta holds his hand in the hallway, "Dead grandmother", 

Gore is unconvinced. 

"Dead grandmother?", one of her thin eyebrows is raised. Ella's across from the principal's desk. 

"That's what Mr. Eisen said. I had Rosetta Tharp notify Paul Stanley", Fitzgerald uses the new name. 

"Who's this boy going out with?", Gore taps a pencil against her lip. 

"It's so hard to tell, I see him a lot with Frehley", 

The blue suited woman smiles, suspicions confirmed. 

"Could you get me Mr. Eisen's daytime number?", Fitzgerald nods, slightly stepping out of the room, when the phone starts to ring. 

"Tipper Gore's office", a pause, "Yes, can you hold?, Thank you", the secretary puts the call on hold, "It's Mr. Eisen", 

Gore's startled, she thinks for a moment, reaching for the phone, "Do you still want his number?", 

She glares at Ella , who backs out, as Gore pushes the phone button. 

"Tipper Gore", 

"Tipper, this is Daniel Eisen", 

"How are you today, sir?", she places her feet on the desk again. 

"We've had a bit of bad luck this morning, as you may have heard", 

She rolls her eyes 'It's obviously not Mr. Eisen'. 

"I heard. And, gosh, I'm all broken up. Huh? Oh, sure, sure. I'd be happy to release Paul, " she speaks in a thinly veiled sarcastic tone, "You produce a corpse, and I'll release Paul. I want to see this dead grandmother firsthand", Fitzgerald looks horrified, hand over her mouth. Gore covers the phone, whispering to her. 

"It's Frehley. Nervy little punk. I'm going to set a trap. He'll walk right in it", she uncovers the phone, "That's right, just roll her old bones in and I'll turn over your son. It's school policy. Was this your mother?", Fitzgerald smiles to herself, entering the other room to pick up line two.

"Tipper Gore's office", her jaw drops upon realizing who she's talking to, "H-hold", she sets it on hold, before rushing to the office. The principal's chewing out 'Eisen', playing with a pencil. 

"Tell you what, you don't like my policies, you can just come on down and kiss my big old ,white tits, you hear me?", Fitzgerald's frantically waving her arms, Gore shooing her away. This doesn't work.

"What?!", she hisses, covering the phone. 

"Paul Frehley's on line two!", 

Gore freezes in place, pencil dropping from her fingers. Her horrified glance is on the blinking second line button. Her eye twitches nervously, as she presses it. 

Ace is pulling on a jacket, phone cradled against his shoulder, speaking in the same tone as the last call. 

"Mrs. Gore? I'm so sorry to disturb you at work, but I was wonderin' if it could be possible for my brother to bring home any assignments that I need", the woman stares blankly ahead, "Thank you, miss", she nods, as he hangs up. Nervously, she presses for line one. 

"M-Mr. Eisen, I-I think I owe you an apology ", 

"Well, I should say you do", Gene puts on the fake voice, calling from Ace's kitchen, "I think you should be sorry, for Christ's sake! A family member dies, and you insult me, what the hell is the matter with you, anyway?", 

She apologizes profusely, starting to sweat. "I-I don't know, sir. I-I thought you were someone else. You know I would never deliberately insult you. I-I can't begin to tell you how e-embarrassed I am", 

"Pardon my French, but you're an asshole!", Gene barks, "Asshole!", 


	4. Less than 400 made

"Absolutely, I most certainly am", Tipper is shaking, while Gene continues to rag on her. 

"This isn't over yet, missy. You just make sure my son's out in front of the school in 20 minutes, do you read me?", 

"Loud and clear, Mr. Eisen!", the principal nods. 

"Call me sir, Goddammit!", Gene shouts. 

"Sir". 

"That's better", he smirks, before setting the phone down, covering it. 

"I'm scared, Ace! What if Gore guesses my voice?!", Ace shakes his head, claiming it's impossible. Gene sighs, going back to the phone. 

"I don't have all day to bark at you, so I'll make this short and sweet", Ace gives a thumbs up, mouthing 'Great'. Gene smiles, "I want my son out in front of the school in 20 minutes. By himself. I don't want anyone around-", Ace smacks Gene. He's said the wrong thing, and covers the phone. "What'd I do?", 

"Out in front by himself? It's too suspicious! She'll think something's up, moron. Cover it". Gene panics, holding the phone to the other boy. 

"You do it!", Ace waves his arms angrily, "Talk". Gene takes a deep breath, before clearing his throat, and putting on the 'father voice'. 

"I changed my mind, missy. You be out in front with him, I want to have a few words with you!", Ace slaps Gene again, the phone flying out of his hand. Gore winces as the phone hits the floor. The boys scramble to pick it up, then Gene clears his throat again. 

"On second thought, I don't have time to talk to you. We'll get together soon and have lunch", another slap, and the phone call disconnects. Gene rubs the side of his head, "Why'd you hit me?!", 

"Where's your brain?", Ace snaps. 

"Why'd you hit me?", Gene shoots back. 

"Where's your brain?", Ace continues. 

"I asked you first", 

"How can we pick up Paul if Gore's going to be there with him?!", the brunet hisses. 

"I said for him to be there alone and you freaked!", the black haired teen shrieks. 

"My God, you're so stupid! I didn't hit you, I lightly slapped you". 

Gene is furious at this. 

"You hit me. Look, don't ask me to go along with your crap if you don't like the way I do it!", 

Ace is incredulous at Gene's stupidity, Gene's anger intensified by his embarrassment, "I was home, sick, you get me out of bed, bring me over here, jeopardize my future, make me do a stupid phone call to the principal, a woman who could squeeze my nuts into oblivion, and then you deliberately hurt my feelings?", 

Ace runs a hand through his hair. 

"I didn't deliberately hurt your feelings". 

"Oh, really?", Gene scoffs. 

"Yeah, really", 

Gene glares at him. 

"Hey, Ace, have a nice life", he turns and heads out of the room. Ace sighs. 

"Gene?", 

"Stick it up your ass, Ace", 

"Gene, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jam ya. It was uncalled for", the other stops. 

"You're serious?", he turns around. Ace nods. 

"Dead serious". Gene smiles, appreciating the apology. 

"Thanks". 

"You did screw up though, right?", Ace sing-songs, "Not that it was necessarily all your fault, right?", 

Gene narrows his eyes. 

"Why?", 

"To fix this situation, I'm going to have to ask you for a small favor". The teen's jaw drops. 

The storage garage door opens, revealing the hood of a crimson Mustang. Gene's face is ashen, the end of the world is at hand. Ace is in heaven. 

"1968 500 G.T. Mustang. Less than 400 made. It has a market value of $265,000. My uncle spent three years restoring it. It's his joy, love, and passion, " the bassist explains. 

"It's his fault we got the key to the garage", Ace goes to unlock the door, only for Gene to hold him back. 

"Ace, my uncle loves this car more than his own life, we can't take this out". The guitarist rolls his eyes. 

"A man with these priorities doesn't deserve a car like this", 

"He never drives it. He just rubs it with a diaper", 

"Well, we can't pick up Paul in your car, Gene. Gore'd never believe Mr. Eisen drives that piece of shit". 

"It's not a piece of shit", the teen argues. 

"It's a piece of shit. Don't worry about it. I don't even have a piece of shit. I have to envy yours. Look, I'm sorry, but there's nothing else we can do". Gene insists against it, claiming that the man practically has the mileage tattooed on his wrist. 

Ace crosses his arms, "He doesn't trust you", 

"No". 

"Alright, this is real simple", he puts an arm around Gene's shoulders, "Whatever miles we put on it, we'll take off". 

"How?", 

Ace smiles, "We'll drive it here backwards". 

Gene shakes his head no, "Forget it, Ace. You'll have to think of something else"...

His protests are drowned out by the roar of the engine. 

"You're not talking me into this one. I have to see the man every week. I'm sorry, but....". The engine roars, as they head to the school. 

Peter exits the classroom, stopping as Paul and Gore walk past. Paul has his coat on, and he's carrying his books. The teen eyes him suspiciously. The mustang is parked out in front, windows down. Ace is driving, wearing a hat and sunglasses, Gene's seated in the back. 

"Are you crazy? Roll the windows up!", he yells. 

"It's perfect window down weather", Ace argues. 

"What about Gore?", 

"Gene, the more obvious we are, the less likely we are to get caught". 

"That makes no sense whatsoever".

Ace shrugs, "The adult mind is an imperfect machine", he pauses, "Stay low", Gene groans. 

"How come it's my uncle's car and I'm taking all the risk and I have to ride back here?", 

"I have no explanation". 

Paul and Gore exit, Gore rubbing Paul's back. 

"Once again, let me say, how deeply saddened I am by your loss", she shakes her head. 

"Huh?", Paul asks quietly. 

"Were you close to your grandmother?", Paul's taken aback. 

"Oh, um, yes. She was a terrific woman, very cool, very old", he replies. 

"Paul!", Ace calls in a deep voice, making sure not to show the lower half of his face, "C'mon now!", 

Gore's suspicious, as the teen bids her a quick farewell. "I guess that's my dad, thanks, see ya". He hurries to the car, Tipper watching him. 'Something doesn't compute for me". Peter watches out the door, seeing the Mustang pull away. Gore still can't put her finger on what's bothering her. 

The dark haired teen shrieks with delight, leaning over the console and gives Ace a kiss. 

"This is so great! I can't believe it! Right in front of Gore!", he laughs, turning to Gene, "Hiya, Gene. You comfortable?", 

"Hi, no!", he chirps darkly. 

"What a fabulous car!", Paul beams, flipping a few dials. 

"Enjoy it quick, it's going back". Ace ignores this. 

"It was risky, it was bold, but it was totally necessary". 

Paul chuckles, "What're we gonna do?', 

Ace taps his boyfriend's nose, "What aren't we gonna do?", 

Gene places his face in his hands, "Don't tell me we're not going to take the car back. Please". 

Ace talks to himself again, "If you had access to a car like this, would you take it back, right away? Would you take it back, right away? Would you give up feelin' like a ton just to ease your best friend's tension?", he smiles, "Neither would I", the car takes off like a bullet. Outside the bank, Gene and Paul wait inside, not sure what to say to each other. "Band practice tomorrow?", Paul asks. 

"We don't have a drummer, still", 

"Dammit, you're right", he crosses his arms. 

Ace exits the bank, wads of cash in hand. "Let's get this started", he tosses the money on the console, and closes the door, before starting the engine. 

"Thanks so much, miss", Mrs. Volbeck leaves the bank, and goes to her own car, passing by a clothing store. Gene, Paul, and Ace are stiff in the window, like mannequins. 


End file.
